


Feint Attack

by forwardarcadia



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Diamond & Pearl & Platinum | Pokemon Diamond Pearl Platinum Versions
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3275237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forwardarcadia/pseuds/forwardarcadia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I’m in a gory mood, and since I’ve past mentioned Lucian’s anger, let’s expound on that. (Consider this making up for the slack here)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feint Attack

Amethyst lenses were on the ground, a few shards of their glass scattered within its carpet cover. Metal frames still stood straight, despite the rough treatment they’d endured. Right above them was their owner, who knelt on his knees, clutching his right cheek in sudden pain.

Waved lilac locks, in a shade mirroring his spectacles, were lightly dotted with fresh blood. A bright trickle of crimson ran down his nose, accompanied by more seeping down his mouth. Some residual “paint” had smeared upon his cheek as well. 

Through parted lips, he tried to breathe out, his tongue peeking out like Poochyena did when distressed. His eyes had been shut tight, but they gradually eased open. Their gleam of mauve burned bright with rage, accentuated by his sharply furrowed brow.

Though he was still on the ground, the man peered up to his foe, mystical orbs glowing with the fury of an imploding star. The other glanced down, a cruel smirk of satisfaction on his bearded face. He was a Hiker by “profession”, but often challenged Sinnoh’s Elite Four as a self-imposed challenge.

However, today’s session was apparently his limit, as he’d come close to victory several times. The only thing between him and Cynthia’s title was the fourth room in tow. That maddening chamber, adorned in royal purple-

"I got you, little fella," his gravelly voice rasped out as a weathered hand wrapped around the walking stick he brandished. At once, the other man was tapped with that wooden implement, its end against maroon fabric. "You beat my Pokemon, but I got you. Remember-"

He cracked his knuckles, causing his opponent to wince in response. The other’s mouth opened in a pained snarl, revealing blood-stained teeth. “Remember, it’s not over until one of us blacks out,” the Hiker taunted, raising his stick up to prod his shoulder. “Now, who’s it gonna be? Me or you, Lucian?”

Burning gaze on the larger man, Lucian huffed out, spilling saliva mixed with his own blood to the floor. In spite of the pain racing through his battered face, he still held strong in his conviction. A shaky hand suddenly grasped that wooden rod as its owner eased upward.

Hardly missing a beat, the Psychic stepped towards his opponent, poking him in his chest and prominent gut with the stick. The larger man wasn’t as nimble as Lucian was, forcing the implement’s wood against his person. “Fuck you, Theo!” he barked out, drawing the rod against his rounded face. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times-“

Theodore’s mighty hands grabbed Lucian’s jacket, forcing the Elite against himself. “-I’ve told you,” he pressed on as his eyes began to glow even brighter. Their lilac hue appeared almost white, blending in with his sclera. His pupils retained their black, gleaming like aged Charcoal. “That’s just the way the Elite Four works! If you have a problem with that, deal with it! Don’t take it out on me!”

"And why shouldn’t I?" the Hiker asked back, his tone dangerously demanding. He pushed forward, slamming his girth upon Lucian’s slender form.The two were fast approaching a wall now, visible in the corner of their eyes. "Every time I come here, I get *this* close to winning! Then you whip out that damn Bronzong-"

"What of it?!" Lucian replied, his scowl growing into a madman’s smile. Such was a not joyous grin, but rather one designed to bear his metaphorical "fangs". "Again, that’s just the way it is! It’s not my fault it knows Levitate. What are you insinuating?"

"Oh, nothing," Theodore answered with casual tone betraying his seething rage. The Hiker released his grip on Lucian, using his free digits to tap at the other’s nose. Soon, his large hand was against the other’s bloodied cheek, pulling it as a twisted taunt. "Just that you’re a god damn cheater, is all!"

Pale eyes set wide, Lucian felt his growing anger reach its limit as well. The Hiker’s fingers twisted sensitive flesh, clearly ready to harm him once more. “Again, and I must reiterate this,” he growled out, his voice demonically low, yet eloquent. “Fuck you, too!” 

At once, his eyes became completely white, nearly blinding in their brightness. The Psychic’s gaze was fixed on Theodore, who released his grip in mounting fear. As if possessed by the very spirit of rage, he cracked the walking stick atop the other’s head, snapping it in two. 

"Don’t you *dare* come into my room," Lucian shouted further, raising his heating hands in the air. His palms began to radiate an amethyst "aura", illuminating their pale flesh. "Lose, knock me out, and have the gall to call *me* a cheater!"

Theodore felt his whole body grow warm, and peered all around himself. That aura had surrounded his form, tinting it as lilac as Lucian’s messy locks. He glanced down to his foe, which set his mind astir. “I face him straight on,” the Hiker mused, growing fretful. “What the hell’s going on?!”

The Psychic’s unearthly gaze was still upon himself from below, topped by a sadistic smile. “Good lord, am I in the air?!” Theodore asked frantically, trying to touch ground once more. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

"Oh, it’s a little Psychic trick," Lucian taunted his opponent, giving him a coy wave of his glowing fingers. "Just a way to get mine." A slim digit circled the air a few times, spinning the Hiker about like a toy top. His panicked cries filled the air, bringing a perversely twisted delight to the Elite. "Now, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Nothing!" Theodore replied sharply, his head knocked about. Despite his unease, he dared not admit "defeat" in the face of his opponent. "I’ll stand mighty as a rock, but you’re still a little cheating bitch!" Lucian shut his eyes in disapproval, shaking his head dismissively. 

"Sorry, that’s incorrect," he stated as those glowing orbs revealed themselves in all their terrifying power. "You said it yourself, ‘it’s not over until one of us blacks out’." With a final pause to catch his breath, the Psychic moved out of the way of his target. "And it’s *not* going to be me."

Theodore’s hefty form was suddenly lifted towards a nearby wall, where its flesh barely touched its violet surface. At once, he was slammed face forward into the surface, banging against painted dry wall. Though the Hiker’s pained screams were slightly muffled, Lucian could tell it hurt tremendously. 

The other man tried to fight back, but his foe’s Psychic power overwhelmed his body. He screamed, howled, cried out for any sort of mercy. With a final shuddering gasp, he fell unconscious, unable to scream or complain no more. Once the Elite was sure he had fallen, he released him from his mental grip.

Lucian walked over to where his opponent had landed, laying flat on his back against carpet. He held the man’s wrist, searching for a pulse. When one revealed itself, the Elite breathed a welcome sigh of relief. He was only unconscious, as opposed to the alternative. Amethyst eyes returned to their normal state, and scanned Theodore’s bruised face.

His nose dripped blood as well, though not as heavily as Lucian’s had. A slick, pink tongue hung from his mouth, gleaming with drool. It was a grisly sight, one the Elite felt anguished by. Though Theodore provoked him first, he didn’t wish to kill the other man. Rather, his actions were fueled by adrenaline and a need for revenge.

"Sorry I had to do that, man," Lucian quietly said to himself, as he searched for his fallen glasses. Once they were found, he put them on, straightening their lenses. With a toss of his waved locks, he walked towards his chamber’s door to heal his own wounds. "I did what I had to do. And besides-"

"You weren’t going to beat me. Not now, not ever."


End file.
